


Open Expressions

by Avistella



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avistella/pseuds/Avistella
Summary: Hríd confronts you after you put your life on the line for him.





	Open Expressions

You cautiously look up from your seat on the cot when you hear your tent flap open. Your sunken in eyes from all your bottled up emotions widen slightly in surprise when the sole prince of Nifl walks in. He wears a neutral expression on his face, though his body language suggests that there's more to what he's feeling than he lets on. You already have an inkling suspicion on his reason for coming to you alone like this, your brows furrowing together as you recall recent events.

You can't meet his gaze, and so you stare down at the ground instead, picking at the neatly wrapped bandages around your arm. The wound underneath it—a deep gash from the swift and strong swing of a sharpened sword—still stings, but you try not to let it show on your features.

"I wanted to see how your injuries were doing," the Niflese prince speaks up, breaking the tense and awkward silence that hangs heavily in the air. You still can't look at him, and you miss the way the corners of his lips tug into a small frown. A beat passes before he finally asks, "Why did you do it?"

_Ah, there it is._

"Do what?" You shrug your shoulders, pretending to play dumb as you continue to stare down at the ground. If only it can just swallow you whole and spare you from this conversation that you aren't in the mood to have. Your fingers pick even more at the material wrapped around your arm.

"Why did you put your life on the line for me?" Hríd clarifies.

You give another seemingly casual shrug, but deep inside, your stomach is twisting into unpleasant knots. You can feel the prince's intense gaze on your figure, but even so, you refuse to look up. "Princess Fjorm and Princess Ylgr would have been sad," you try to explain.

Hríd crosses his arms over his chest. His tone is almost accusing as he asks, "Are you saying that the Order of Heroes or that prince you're always with aren't sad that you got hurt?"

You wince at that, your shoulders rising up in defense. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. You still haven't forgotten the glossy look in Alfonse's eyes as he tended to your injuries in silence. His hands were trembling the entire time, and it made you feel horrible. You shake your head and avoid answering the question. "You're a prince. You're somebody important," you attempt to justify your reckless behaviour from before.

"And you're not?"

"No, I'm not." Your response is immediate and unwavering, like it's something you firmly believe in, that it stuns the prince completely silent for a moment. Your voice is dry as you add, "I'm not important, so it doesn't matter what happens to me."

"That kind of thinking will get you killed—"

You cut Hríd off with a sharp hiss of pain through your teeth. He had touched upon a nerve of yours, and you ended up picking at your bandage too hard and too often that it caused the wound to reopen. You stare at the blooming red on while like you're in a trance before turning your attention away. You finally look up at Hríd, your eyes hollow.

"I'm aware," you say simply, unfeeling. "So if that's all, could you please leave?"

"...No," he exhales, his shoulders sagging the smallest bit with the action.

"You're a stubborn prince," you remark. You don't have the energy to keep up your usual formalities, your irritation making itself known with your sharp tone and harsh words.

"And you're hurt," Hríd shoots back matter-of-factly, taking slow but purposeful steps towards you. He kneels down to your level, moving with the grace befitting his status as prince.

You laugh with a sense of emptiness. There's a hint of a waver in your voice as you ask in a self-mocking voice, "Don't tell me you actually _care_ about me?"

Icy blue eyes flicker towards your face, and you flinch at the seriousness behind those features. Hríd's expression is unreadable as he reaches out to gingerly take your injured arm into his hands. He gets to work on unravelling the soiled bandages so that he can redress the wound, your question still up in the air for him to respond to.

"...I do," he finally answers, even and resolute.

You're tempted to jerk your arm away, but Hríd's grip on you remains firm. You look off to the side with a crestfallen expression. "Liar. Why should you care for someone as useless as me?"

"Do you truly consider yourself useless?"

"I haven't done anything worthwhile," you point out.

Self-critical. Self-loathing. Self-conscious. The Niflese prince feels like he's seeing a bit more of your true nature thatnyou keep hidden away from everyone else. In a way, it's kind of endearing seeing you being so open with your raw emotions.

Hríd breathes out a sigh. "You mean to tell me that everything you've done for the Order of Heroes isn't worthwhile? So everything they've told me about how you've helped them grow both on and off the battlefield isn't worth of note and acknowledgement?"

"It's not enough. I need to do better."

Hríd's grip on your arm tightens by a fraction, his eyes becoming much sharper than before. "At what cost? Your own life?"

"My life means _nothing_ —"

"Your life means _everything_ for those Heroes out there. Your life means _something_ to me. You saved my sisters' lives and my own when you knew nothing about us."

Your eyes fall to the ground, your chest feeling tight as you remember something that happened before you had met Hríd. "...But I couldn't save Princess Gunnthrà."

The prince flinches at that, his own expression growing solemn. His hold on you relaxes a bit. "Fjorm told me what happened. That was not your fault. You need not burden yourself with that guilt. My sister chose to trust you, and so I will as well."

You laugh in disbelief at his own words. " _You'll_ trust _me_? After you so brazenly brought up the possibility that there might be a traitor in our midst? You can't actually be choosing to trust me that easily."

"I do." It hasn't even come to your attention until now that Hríd has already finished redressing your wound, his hand having trailed down to gently hold your own.

"Why...?" Although you meant to sound strong, the question quivers with your voice, so vulnerable and open.

"Your eyes," the Niflese prince answers, his free hand moving to stroke your cheek while his gaze locks with yours. Your breath catches in your throat. Since he had seen a bit of your weaker side, he thinks it's only fair if he too allows himself to let go of all pretenses. "Even though you hide them away with the hood of your cloak, whenever I manage to catch a glimpse of them, they always seem honest and true. I've never seen such expressive eyes like yours before."

Your mind draws a blank, unable to form a coherent thought as all you can focus on is the intensity of Hríd's stare. Slowly, his lips curl into a smile that you've only seen him wear when talking with his sisters, and your heart jumps in your chest. He stands back up to his full height, his hand lingering on your skin for a moment longer.

"Your life has meaning," he tells you. "The people around you care and love you more than you realize. ...Myself included."


End file.
